


Dance with the Devil

by Marks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dancer Hubert, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Female My Unit | Byleth, Ferdibert Week (Fire Emblem), Ferdibert Week 2019, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, M/M, Pre-Time Skip, White Heron Cup, apologies to any waltz enthusiasts, references to canonical deaths, the dancer costume does NOT include gloves and i'm never getting over this, the dancing is a metaphor!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: With a nod of approval, Ferdinand reached up and grasped Hubert’s shoulder. Then he held his other hand out and waited. Hubert did not look pleased about it. In fact, he looked like a deer exposed to sudden bright light, but they were not deer; they were eagles and, dammit, Ferdinand would make them both soar.Byleth picks Hubert to represent the Black Eagles for the White Heron Cup. The only problem is he can't dance. Enter Ferdinand.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 37
Kudos: 298
Collections: Ferdibert Ship Week 2019





	Dance with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> for Ferdibert Week's Day 6 prompt: enemies-to-lovers and the Day 7 prompt: dancing. fun fact, this is way more about the dancing than anything else but i didn't even mean to incorporate this much of it when i started writing. another fun fact: this is about 8,000 words longer than i originally intended. yet another fun fact: i don't really understand fun facts.
> 
> this is mostly canon-compliant, taking place in the pre-timeskip ethereal moon/guardian moon stretch, which is where a lot of important stuff happens. the fic includes the canon events of the white heron cup, the academy ball, and the rare monster sighting side quest, but i stretched the timeline like taffy to make it work for my purposes. i also sort of took the way magic works in the game and expanded on it because i'm the author and i'm allowed to do that. 
> 
> ferdinand and hubert warming to each other this early can be canon if you feel it in your heart. 
> 
> there's no playlist for this fic. instead, you should just listen to [backstage romance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cbHj6SBGWc) from the moulin rouge! broadway soundtrack until you want to throttle me.

Ferdinand puffed up his chest and put on his bravest face. “Hubert, I hear congratulations are in order.” 

“What for?” Hubert flicked his eyes up and down suspiciously, like Ferdinand was luring him into a trap. Which was ridiculous. When Ferdinand wanted to insult Hubert, he simply did it. Who needed all the artifice? Maybe some people, but Ferdinand was different.

“Because the professor selected you for the White Heron Cup, of course!” Ferdinand tamped down his envy and plastered a smile across his face. “Your dancing must be something to behold, for you to be chosen over me.”

Hubert rolled his eyes and sighed, a long, slow exhalation of air that went on for so long that Ferdinand became seriously impressed with his lung capacity. “I have never danced a day in my life.”

“What,” Ferdinand said flatly. “What! But I am a wonderful dancer! And you are the only heir to a noble family. Certainly you’ve attended balls, have you not? I cannot imagine—”

“But,” Hubert interrupted, a slow smile creeping across his reptilian face, “if it bothers you, then I’m incredibly happy to have been selected.” He leaned in so close that Ferdinand had to purse his lips because he definitely wouldn’t lean back. With him this near, Hubert’s eyes seemed brighter and Ferdinand could feel the heat coming from his skin. “What an honor.”

Ferdinand narrowed his eyes. “I hope you do not bring shame to your house. You are representing _all_ of the Black Eagles,” he said, ignoring it when Hubert rolled his eyes again. “That means you are representing the head of your house, too,” he added. It was satisfying when Hubert’s whole demeanor froze up. “It would be a pity if Edelgard was embarrassed, would it not?”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Behind him, he heard Hubert swear under his breath, a balm upon the sting of the professor passing him over.

*

A few days later, the doors to the library slammed open. Hardly becoming conduct for a library, but the only two people inside were Ferdinand and Linhardt, and unsurprisingly Linhardt was asleep. Hubert stood in the doorway, the sunlight streaming in behind him making him look like even more of a blotch on the landscape than usual. He was wild-eyed and his hair was unbrushed. He’d also missed a button on his uniform jacket, which was a bit worrisome. None of this fit with Ferdinand’s usual impression of Hubert. He was many awful things, but slovenly was not one of them.

Not that Ferdinand took inventory of how Hubert normally looked! Or rather, he did, but he did that with everyone. It was simply the noble way of doing things. It did not mean anything more.

“All right, I give,” Hubert said. 

Ferdinand looked all around, just to make sure they were alone as he thought. A table over, Linhardt let out a dainty snort and mumbled something about Caspar needing a haircut, but other than that, it was just the two of them. “Give… what?” he asked tentatively.

Hubert stalked over to Ferdinand and tried looming over him, but he did that literally every time they spoke, so it did not have the intended effect. Ferdinand only blinked up at him and did not close his volume of _The Most Effective Battle Strategies Ever_. It was the all-horseback special, and goddess knew that ranked above Hubert in terms of importance.

“I need your help,” Hubert eventually said through gritted teeth.

“What is happening here?” Ferdinand asked. Hubert needed his help? That seemed so unlikely, and naturally Ferdinand was suspicious. Hubert did not like him, and he did not like Hubert. They rarely sought each other out, and when they did, they kept their interactions as brief as possible. Ferdinand could not accept Hubert’s boot-licking, and Hubert refused to respect anyone who did not worship at Edelgard’s dainty feet, so they were at an impasse. 

It was too bad that two high-ranking sons of the Empire did not enjoy each other’s company, but it was what it was. Ferdinand would endure for the sake of his family’s reputation. After all, Caspar’s and Linhardt’s fathers did not get along, but they still did their jobs. It would be the same for Ferdinand and Hubert because there was no way they would ever get along.

“The White Heron Cup,” Hubert said. At that, Ferdinand perked up. “I have been mulling over what you said and —” Here, Hubert clenched his jaw. “And you.” He looked up at the library’s high ceiling and exhaled through his nose. “You were right.”

 _Now_ Ferdinand was interested. He saved his place in his book and shut it, then folded his hands on the table and began to grin. “I am sorry, Hubert,” he said, not even bothering to keep the delight from his voice. “I didn’t quite hear you. Could you please repeat that?”

Hubert snarled — actually _snarled_ , like some sort of uncaged beast — and looked down again, this time catching Ferdinand’s gaze. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous and Ferdinand absolutely did not feel his toes curl inside his boots. “I said, you were right.” He sat down beside Ferdinand without being asked. “I don’t wish to bring shame upon Lady Edelgard, so I need your help with dancing.”

Ferdinand laughed at that. He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it. Hubert von Vestra needed his help? “I refuse.”

At that, Hubert looked so stunned that Ferdinand nearly laughed again. He knew he was a nice person, and fine, perhaps he could be a _tad_ overeager, but did Hubert think he was some sort of a pushover? Since their start at the academy, Hubert had been nothing but rude to him, and now here he was asking for a favor. 

“Ask the professor for help,” Ferdinand said. “Or your precious Edelgard. I’m sure she must be a wonderful dancer.” He swayed in close to Hubert and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, I know my dancing is superior, but Edelgard would certainly do in a pinch.”

Speaking of pinching, Hubert was pinching the bridge of his nose. “The professor is giving me lessons, but she simply doesn’t have the time to dedicate to increasing my skills to acceptable levels in the amount of time that I have. And of course I can’t bother Lady Edelgard with something so insignificant.”

A hot wave of anger washed over Ferdinand, as though a volcano had erupted with him as its endpoint. “Oh, but you thought I was fine to bother with something insignificant?”

In the dim light of the library, it was difficult to tell, but Ferdinand thought Hubert’s cheeks went red at that. “I should have phrased that differently,” he said. “I apologize. I’m embarrassed to bother Lady Edelgard with this. I don’t wish for her to see me as insufficient in any area. I have no reason to feel embarrassed around you, so I’m asking for your help.”

It wasn’t exactly the nicest thing Hubert could have said, but Ferdinand supposed he could understand his point-of-view when stated that way. In truth, his own dance skills had grown rather rusty in recent years and the more he thought about it, the happier he was that the professor hadn’t chosen him after all. And perhaps if the situations were reversed, he would have gone to Hubert for help as well.

No. That was nonsense. Ferdinand could never rely on Hubert for anything! But if he could not be the bigger man in this situation, then what kind of noble would he be?

“Fine,” Ferdinand said.

Surprise flashed across Hubert’s face. “Fine?” Hubert repeated.

“Yes.” Ferdinand stood and bowed magnanimously. “I will give you dance lessons and make sure you properly represent our house.” He tilted his head and flashed Hubert a brilliant smile. “But you will owe me.”

Hubert’s eyes widened. So that made twice Ferdinand had surprised him. He wished he didn’t like that as much as he did. It was very unbecoming. But then Hubert extended one gloved hand out to him, which Ferdinand reached out and shook with his own. 

“We have a deal,” Hubert said.

Ferdinand hoped he would not regret this.

*

Ferdinand already regretted this.

They had commandeered their empty classroom after hours, moving the desks and chairs out of the way, and this made for an acceptable practice area. They both adjusted their schedules accordingly, and Ferdinand was impressed with Hubert’s flexibility in that arena. When Ferdinand handed over a rigorous practice proposal, Hubert pushed aside whatever he usually did with his nights — two hours of laughing at Edelgard’s jokes, perhaps? — in order to fit it all in.

But.

Well.

Hubert had _not_ been exaggerating when he said he could not dance. That, in fact, was a vast understatement. Hubert was _awful_.

Despite Hubert’s long legs and frankly perfect posture, he possessed two left feet and an abysmal sense of rhythm. Whenever Ferdinand corrected the placement of Hubert’s arms on his imaginary partner and started humming an appropriate song at the appropriate tempo, Hubert would lose the rhythm immediately and nearly fall over. He crashed into pillars. He tripped over nothing. He looked miserable and angry with himself with every misstep, and they happened with shocking frequency. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic and it wouldn’t reflect badly on Ferdinand himself.

Ferdinand stopped humming as Hubert lost the tempo _again_. “Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “This is painful. I can no longer endure such pitiful attempts.”

“Perhaps if my instructor knew what he was doing…”

That was weak, even for Hubert, and he knew it. Ferdinand raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. He did not want to argue; he realized with some alarm that he wanted Hubert to _succeed_. The Black Eagles were the best house at the Officers Academy and it would be a great shame if they did not waltz away with that cup, no pun intended. And even if he needled at Ferdinand when he was selected, it was not like Hubert had asked for this.

“I will not say that you are correct about that because you are not,” Ferdinand said. “But, let’s pretend for a moment that you are. If a student isn’t learning in one way, then it is time to change tactics.”

Hubert tilted his head. “Change tactics?”

Ferdinand nodded. “Clearly hearing the music and counting the beats while I give you instruction from a distance is not working.” He took two strides forward and stood directly in front of Hubert, peering up. “Put your hand on my waist. It’s not proper form, but it will do for now.”

“What?” Hubert said with some degree of alarm. “I have no desire to touch—”

“Do it, Hubert!” Ferdinand ordered.

Hubert immediately reached out and put one hand on Ferdinand’s waist. With a nod of approval, Ferdinand reached up and grasped Hubert’s shoulder. Then he held his other hand out and waited. Hubert did not look pleased about it. In fact, he looked like a deer exposed to sudden bright light, but they were not deer; they were eagles and, dammit, Ferdinand would make them both soar. After a moment of silence, Hubert grasped Ferdinand’s outstretched hand with his own.

“Good,” Ferdinand said, once this was done. “You lead; I will follow. The waltz uses triple time, so we will move in a slow circle with a one-two-three, one-two-three rhythm.”

Hubert looked frustrated. “So you’ve said.”

“Well, you haven’t had a partner take you in hand before,” Ferdinand said, irritated. “Perhaps my presence will help.”

“I doubt that,” Hubert said, but Ferdinand ignored it.

“Please do not insult my teaching methods when they have not yet been exhausted. Now, on the count of three, I will begin humming again and you can start off our dance.”

Twenty minutes later, Hubert was not the only discouraged one. Ferdinand allowed himself to be yanked around the classroom, enduring Hubert’s giant clumsy feet. At one point, he considered weaponizing them, given the amount of damage they did to Ferdinand’s poor toes. Every time Hubert took a too-large step forward to Ferdinand’s normal step back, their music would be interrupted by Ferdinand’s sudden onslaught of pain. Even when Ferdinand gave up on music and just kept count as they moved, Hubert still seemed to overthink things and soon lost the steps. Then, to add insult to literal injury, as things continued not to click, Hubert’s grip on his waist and the hold he had on his hand tightened to the point where Ferdinand winced with pain.

The only positive was Hubert managing to avoid the classroom’s pillars and discarded desks and chairs as they danced together, as though having someone to protect made him more careful. But that made sense; Hubert lived for protecting another person and, at the moment, Ferdinand was a convenient replacement.

The thought brought a scowl to his face, though he could not quite understand why. Instead, Ferdinand stopped them again. “This is not working,” he said.

“Goodness, you excel at stating the obvious.”

“It would certainly be more helpful if you put as much effort into dancing as you do being unkind to me,” Ferdinand said.

“I don’t like you,” Hubert reminded him, as though he could ever forget.

“You don’t like dancing, either,” Ferdinand shot back. “And yet here we both are.” It struck him ridiculous that they were having this argument while holding hands, their faces scarcely separated, Hubert’s fingers tapping some sort of impatient staccato on Ferdinand’s hip. So he was capable of keeping a rhythm, it seemed. “Listen, I have one more idea.” He reached down and put his hand over Hubert’s on his waist and lifted it to his shoulder, reaching for Hubert’s hip as he flipped their joined hands so his was on top. “I will take the lead until you get used to how the dance is meant to be performed and then we can switch back so you’ll be able to perform your competition steps on your own. Are you willing to follow me?”

Hubert hesitated. “Yes,” he said after a moment. Through gritted teeth, Ferdinand noticed, but still he said it.

“Your strides are too large,” Ferdinand said as he adjusted his grip and slid his hand up and around to press firmly against Hubert’s back. He felt Hubert naturally straighten his posture at that, which was the most promising development yet. “You should extend your legs, but not to the point where you’re pretending to be a demonic beast on the attack.”

Hubert’s shoulders shook and it took Ferdinand a moment to recognize it as laughter. “I thought we were supposed to destroy the competition?”

Now Ferdinand needed to bite his bottom lip until the urge to laugh passed. Hubert, cracking jokes! With him! What a preposterous set of circumstances they’d gotten themselves in. “Very humorous,” Ferdinand said, once he could speak clearly again. “Channel that energy into the dance.”

Hubert only rolled his eyes, as positive a response as Ferdinand could hope for. Ferdinand counted off again and began to hum the same tune, something from his childhood, one of Manuela’s operas. It was his usual go-to when he needed to concentrate, and as they started to move, he found himself losing himself in the melody and the dance.

This attempt went far better. With Ferdinand guiding their pace and posture, Hubert began to relax, easily following the wide circle Ferdinand made in the classroom. He naturally adjusted his stance and their grip, the changes benefitting Ferdinand as well. As they circled around and around, Ferdinand realized Hubert had no problem keeping the tempo, so he supposed he had been right in thinking Hubert had gotten too caught up in his head.

From a distance, Hubert came off as someone who was cold all over, some sort of poisonous snake whose very demeanor shouted _hands-off_ , but up close like this, there was no way for him to pretend he possessed no warmth. Ferdinand could feel it even through his gloves, noticed the perspiration beading on Hubert’s forehead, the way his chest rose and fell through their shared exertion. It was almost frightening thinking of Hubert as a person instead of something chiseled from cold marble, without thoughts or feelings of his own. But it was exhilarating, too. Perhaps Hubert thought himself as better than Ferdinand because of how close he was to Edelgard, but here it was clear they were just two human beings, caught up in a shared dance.

Eventually their pace slowed and Ferdinand’s song trailed off, but they kept moving together as Ferdinand attempted to make their dance more interesting. Maybe he wanted to test Hubert’s capabilities or maybe he was just showing off, but either way Hubert responded to every press of Ferdinand’s fingers against his back, changing direction and even following when Ferdinand complicated things further by leading them into a promenade. It was fascinating how much Hubert had improved with someone there to guide him, and strange to think that the one to thank was Ferdinand himself.

They were in the center of the classroom when they finally slowed to a stop. Even though they were not dancing, they did not move apart for a moment. Ferdinand found himself staring into Hubert’s eyes, studying their color and admiring their interesting shade before realizing what he was doing. This was Hubert, after all— if not an enemy, then near enough. Certainly not someone whom he’d ever thought he’d be standing with chest-to-chest in the middle of an empty room, with only the moonlight to keep them company.

Ferdinand cleared his throat and stepped back, bowing with an arm at his waist. “Well!” he said, straightening up again. “Things certainly went better that time.”

Hubert did not answer, but he would not look at Ferdinand again and even with only the torchlight, Ferdinand could see his cheeks were pink, which seemed like agreement.

“I think— I think you will improve on your own, now that you understand how the dance feels, but it seems you do better with a partner. Perhaps you can take the lead again tomorrow night?”

“If you think that’s best,” Hubert murmured, still not looking directly Ferdinand’s way. It felt ridiculous, but Ferdinand wished that he would turn his gaze on him again. Why had he thought that? What did that even mean? He was being absurd. Of course waltzing always had a certain magic about it, but this was pushing it. He just— he needed fresh air after too long in one stuffy place, that was all. Ferdinand would feel better once they parted ways.

Ferdinand reached out, his fingertips just brushing against the back of Hubert’s gloved hand. It was foolish, considering the fact they’d just spent the better part of an hour entwined in each other’s arms, but at that brief touch Ferdinand’s heart sped up and then beat faster still when Hubert finally looked his way again. 

Goddess. He really needed to get out of here before he did something he would regret. 

“I will see you here tomorrow evening then,” Ferdinand said. “Until tomorrow.”

Hubert nodded once. “Until tomorrow.”

*

The next day was torture, primarily because Ferdinand could not quite explain why it was torture. The weather was pleasant, even though the days were growing colder as the end of the Ethereal Moon approached. His morning ride went especially well, and Marianne brought along an extra apple for his horse when she came to visit Dorte. The dining hall served one of his favorite meals. He answered an especially difficult question in Professor Byleth’s class and earned a double thumbs-up for his trouble. Professor Manuela liked the first draft of his new poem and made him a pot of his favorite tea. In the afternoon, he sparred with Caspar and won, and though besting him was not a particular goal of Ferdinand’s, winning still always felt better than losing.

So why did his skin itch? Why did his mind race, the same way it always did the night before a battle? Why did he need to look away if he so much as even suspected Hubert might be glancing in his direction? 

Maybe he was ill. That would explain it. But whatever the reason, Ferdinand waited for the sunset with a particular anticipation and dread that defied explanation.

Someone tapped on his shoulder, and Ferdinand was so on edge that he leapt into the air and shrieked. 

When he landed again, Professor Byleth was there, already contrite. “Sorry, Ferdinand,” she said. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem a little… tense?”

“Tense?” Ferdinand threw his head back and laughed. “Of course not! I am perfectly well professor. Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle!”

“Oh.” Byleth put her hand on her chin thoughtfully. “Wanna come to the sauna with me anyway?”

Ferdinand’s eyebrows went up. “Just you and me?” The novelty should have worn off this many months into the school year, but Ferdinand still glowed under his professor's attention. She knew he couldn’t easily turn her down, even if he wanted to. 

“Sure,” Byleth said and shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

A few minutes later they were ensconced in the sauna, the professor ladling water over the hot coals. Ferdinand tried relaxing, but the heat and the sitting only seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable itch of energy that he could not quite scratch. He fidgeted, trying to get a comfortable position, closing his eyes and breathing in the steamy heat. Usually he loved the sauna, so the longer this discomfort within his own skin continued, the longer he was forced to conclude that he had contracted a grave illness. It was the only logical deduction.

“It’s been nice to see you and Hubert getting along lately. I’ve always thought you two would work well together,” Byleth said after Ferdinand changed positions once again.

“Me and Hubert?” Ferdinand repeated, his voice a whole octave higher than usual. Oh, he was definitely dying.

Byleth nodded. “We met this morning about his progress for the White Heron Cup and he let me know that you’ve been helping him with his dancing. Whatever you two have been doing is really helping.” She reached over and patted his knee. “That’s really very generous of you, aiding a friend.”

“A friend?” Ferdinand said indignantly. His voice was still pitched alarmingly high. “Professor, no. You have the wrong idea. Hubert and I are not— we aren’t— he’s not my _friend_.” He pulled at the collar of the standard-issue sauna t-shirt. It wasn’t nearly as much clothing as he typically wore, but at this moment the blasted thing stifled him. “It is only that I do not wish him to disgrace our house during the ball.” He fanned himself as the temperature rose. Was it even hotter in here than usual?

“Oh?” Byleth seemed fine, as lively as a blooming rose in the greenhouse. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m thankful for your service. I think we have a good chance of winning now. Though of course winning isn’t everything.” She smiled secretly, barely a change in expression at all, but Ferdinand could read it anyway; for some reason, he thought of Hubert and the way one corner of his mouth lifted whenever something pleased him. Ferdinand swallowed and wet his lips; he could really use a large, cold glass of water to drink just then. Maybe another to dump over his head. “Keep up the good work,” Byleth concluded.

“I will, Professor,” Ferdinand said, and tried not to pass out.

*

Ferdinand had worked up quite a sweat in the sauna, so afterward he took a long, cool bath in an attempt to right himself again. He also spent a long time fussing in his room, making sure his academy uniform was presentable, fixing his hair and sculpting his eyebrows into shape. Of course he had groomed them that morning, but he prided himself in his neat appearance and a onceover would not hurt. 

After all, if Ferdinand von Aegir wasn’t presentable at all times, then what kind of example was he setting? It was his duty as a noble. The fact that the sun had nearly disappeared beneath the horizon and it was time for his next lesson with Hubert had nothing to do with it.

Hubert was already in the Black Eagles classroom when Ferdinand arrived, standing at its center with his hands clasped behind his back. The desks were pushed to the sides and the large space they needed for the dance had already been prepared. A violin sat on Professor Byleth’s desk for reasons Ferdinand could not fathom, but if the afternoon in the sauna had taught him anything, it was that her motivations could be quite obtuse.

“Am I late?” Ferdinand asked, wrinkling up his forehead in confusion.

Hubert shook his head. “I merely had some extra time, so I thought I might maximize our practice hour and arrived early to set up,” he said. He unfolded his hands from behind his back; Ferdinand noticed that Hubert’s appearance was back to its normal tidy self, no more the sloppy desperation from the library visit where he prostrated himself and begged for Ferdinand’s help.

Okay, so maybe Ferdinand was exaggerating that memory a little. Still, it was something of a relief seeing every one of Hubert’s buttons back in place, his gloves spotless. And it looked like he’d done something a little different with his hair today, too. Perhaps a trim? He tried picturing Hubert with much shorter hair, something that didn’t quite cover his jaw and cheekbones, and had to stop that line of thought immediately. What was he even doing?

“That was— that was a good idea.” Ferdinand could admit when someone had done well, even if that someone was Hubert. “Are you prepared to lead me today?”

Hubert smirked as if he was about to respond with a sharp retort, but the expression faded from his face almost as quickly as it had appeared. “We shall see,” he said instead, and held out his hands. Ferdinand bowed to Hubert and stepped into his space, placing one hand on Hubert’s shoulder and grasping Hubert’s outstretched hand with the other. Hubert put his hand on Ferdinand’s back properly, and Ferdinand gulped as Hubert pulled him in tight. He prepared to count them off, but faltered when the violin on Byleth’s desk began to levitate above it, its gleaming surface glowing as it played the same song Ferdinand had been humming for them all along. 

“I thought you might save your voice this way,” Hubert said. 

“Oh,” Ferdinand breathed, at a loss for words for once. Had Hubert already been familiar with that song because he had more than a passing familiarity with opera, or had he picked it up just from Ferdinand’s repetition? Either possibility was rather nice — sweet, even, if he allowed himself the thought — but the idea of Hubert doing something for no reason other than knowing it would give Ferdinand pleasure was not something he could bear to contemplate.

Hubert began to move then, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as he managed not to tread on Ferdinand’s toes. Around and around the room they went, the violin their only company; Ferdinand’s favorite song through Hubert’s filter was beautiful and sad, lonesome on the single instrument in a way Ferdinand had never before considered. 

“It’s a lovely enchantment,” Ferdinand said, once he was sure Hubert had the dance down. “Certainly better than my singing.” He turned his head and tilted it back, under the guise of proper alignment, and not cover for his suddenly warm face and neck. 

Hubert didn’t respond for a moment, perhaps too caught up in remembering his steps. “Your singing was adequate,” he said eventually. “But I wanted to find a way to repay you.”

“Well, you do still owe me a favor,” Ferdinand reminded him with a laugh. “And this doesn’t qualify. I cannot let you off that easily.”

“Of course not. I would expect nothing less.”

Hubert continued to lead Ferdinand in the waltz, managing the steps with the agile deftness Ferdinand knew him capable of, even if he could never say such things out loud. Their dance had a natural sort of rhythm, as if their bodies understood each other in ways that their minds did not. Ferdinand knew he should tell Hubert that he would do fine for the Cup — now both Byleth and Ferdinand knew that was for certain the case — and that they no longer needed to practice tonight. 

But. In here, like this, it was easy to forget they did not get along, that as soon as they crossed the threshold they would go back to being at each other’s throats. Hubert would go back to questioning Ferdinand’s loyalty and upbringing and independence, and Ferdinand would go back to wondering how Hubert could so fully put his trust into anyone other than himself. He would go back to tamping down the envy he felt over Hubert knowing something that felt so far out of Ferdinand’s reach, and the jealousy he had over Hubert and Edelgard’s relationship. And he’d continue denying that fact to everyone, including himself. 

So he let the dance continue. He let Hubert guide him around the room, let himself be swept up in it, in Hubert, and when Hubert himself was satisfied, bringing the waltz to its natural conclusion, Ferdinand let himself be breathless and quiet, closing his eyes as the last note from the violin hung heavy in the air. 

After a moment, Ferdinand slowly exhaled and, almost involuntarily, squeezed Hubert’s hand. 

“So?” Hubert asked, the first one to disturb the quiet. “Was that to your satisfaction?”

Ferdinand opened his eyes again. Hubert looked unsure, embarrassed, but he also met Ferdinand’s gaze head on. 

“Yes,” Ferdinand assured him immediately, not sure why he was so eager to do so, but the relief he felt when Hubert looked relieved in turn was too real to be denied.

“Well, good.” Hubert slowly slid his hand out of Ferdinand’s grasp, skimming his other hand along Ferdinand’s back as he did so. Ferdinand shivered as Hubert swept into a low bow. “Thank you for your help. With any luck, I will never need to ask for it again.”

Ferdinand laughed, quiet and breathy now instead of his usual boisterous boom. “Yes, let’s hope. We cannot have our reputations suffering further.”

Ah, and there it was, Hubert’s little ghost of a smile, the crooked one saved for when he was genuinely pleased or amused. Ferdinand was getting quite good at reading Hubert’s moods, like it or not. 

They put the classroom back as it was and extinguished the torches around the periphery. Hubert picked up the violin and put it into a case, carrying it off. Was it his? Had he borrowed it? Ferdinand wanted desperately to know, but could not bring himself to ask. 

Instead, as they both moved to leave, he leaned forward and closed one hand around Hubert’s wrist before he could overthink it. 

Hubert glanced over at him, questioning but not disdainful. “Yes?” 

“If you ever truly need my assistance again, you may ask. It’s okay.”

Hubert stared for long enough that Ferdinand grew nervous, but then he only said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

*

Soon enough the night of the White Heron Cup arrived. As they waited for the representatives from each class, the other students chattered excitedly about the upcoming ball and, of course, the myth of the Goddess Tower.

“You’re rather quiet,” Edelgard said, coming to stand with Ferdinand as they waited. He wondered if she was not sure what to do without Hubert available, but it was also possible she truly wished to seek him out. If it were the latter, then he was touched. Whatever rivalry still existed between them, he did not dislike Edelgard. Just because she was not as smart and talented as him did not mean he believed he thought she’d make a poor leader — quite the opposite, in fact. One reason he enjoyed opposing her so much was because an emperor who could rise to a challenge made for a better ruler.

“I believe —” Ferdinand let out a little laugh. “I think I am nervous for Hubert. Is that silly?”

Edelgard shook her head so hard that her light hair went flying in all directions. Despite himself, Ferdinand found it rather charming. “Please don’t tell him, but so am I.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Ferdinand said, leaning in conspiratorially and Edelgard laughed.

The contestants filed out: Ingrid from the Blue Lions and Claude from the Golden Deer before Hubert made his way to the center of the floor. Claude seemed to be doing it mostly for the laughs, but unsurprisingly Ingrid took her duties seriously. She would most likely be Hubert’s greatest competition. Ferdinand’s heart was beating as wildly as Manuela cued the music and the first orchestral swell began.

“He’ll do fine,” he heard Edelgard saying right before the dancers began, though whether she was reassuring herself or him, he couldn’t say. 

“Of course,” Ferdinand said. “He _is_ a Black Eagle, after all.”

Hubert moved with the same grace that he had managed in the classroom the other night, his posture perfect and his eyes intense as he spotted his movements to keep himself centered. It was easy to see how he might move with a partner, and easy to see how Ferdinand himself had slotted into that place as he taught. Manuela and the two knights evaluating the dancing seemed to take their roles as judges seriously, nodding and leaning in to one another to speak from time-to-time.

When the song ended, the judges took a moment to deliberate and though Sir Alois chose Ingrid, both Shamir and Manuela chose Hubert, declaring him the winner. Ferdinand let out an entire lungful of air. For his part, Hubert did not smile at the announcement and Ferdinand overheard him wondering aloud if the judges were in their right minds, but he also noticed Hubert making a small congratulatory fist at his side. 

Edelgard and Ferdinand caught each other’s glances then, and both began to applaud with wide smiles on their faces as the rest of the crowd joined in. It seemed as though they were in agreement that the best student won and, for a moment, it was nice being on the same page with her.

The week before the Garreg Mach Ball sped by, the entire academy swept up in classes and preparations, making everything move even faster than usual. Ferdinand found himself promising to reunite with his fellow classmates in five years for the millennium celebration and excited about the notion.

He dressed carefully in his winter formal attire and proceeded to the ballroom with his classmates. It looked to be a beautiful evening, something relaxing to commemorate all of their hard work, and Ferdinand was having fun socializing and getting to use noble skills other than the ones that prepared him for battle. After a decadent feast, couples began to fill the dance floor as lively music played. Ferdinand watched them, content not to join in for the moment.

“Are you having fun?”

Ferdinand looked over at Professor Byleth, who seemed pleased with what she was seeing.

“I’ve never been to something like this before,” she said.

“Oh, I suppose there would not have been much opportunity,” Ferdinand said. Of course he knew logically that most people’s lives did not contain many events filled with dancing and drinking and obscene amounts of food, but he hadn’t had a chance to interact with most people before the academy either. He once voiced the notion that nobles should know the people who lived on their lands, and though his father did not react with scorn, he also paused for a long time before changing the subject. His father was arrogant and awful, but he was also adept in the art of avoidance, making Ferdinand rather good at reading between his lines. And knowing his father would not approve of something only convinced him further that something was the proper course of action.

But this wasn’t the time nor place to entertain such notions.

“I am having fun,” Ferdinand assured her.

“You aren’t dancing,” Byleth observed.

Ferdinand smiled. “Just not yet. I promise I will.”

Byleth hummed to herself, pleased, and moved onto her next student.

True to his word, Ferdinand took the dance floor when Petra asked him to show her how the people of Fódlan dance. Dorothea soon joined them, then Caspar and Linhardt, and even Bernadetta. All of them were soon laughing and dancing as a group, going through all of Ferdinand’s best steps and then Dorothea’s, which were superior to his. The whole time Ferdinand could not shake the feeling that someone was watching him; it wasn’t a wholly unpleasant feeling, even though it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but every time he turned to see who it might be, he came up with nothing. Eventually, Ferdinand had to extricate himself from his friends for a rest and a gulp of fresh air.

Ferdinand ladled out a cup of punch to drink. The punch was too sweet and could not hold a candle to a well-brewed pot of tea, but it was rather warm in the ballroom and he had been dancing for quite some time. Just as he’d put his empty cup down, a student he did not know very well came up alongside him. He knew her by face and by reputation — she was the second daughter of a minor noble house in Faerghus — but that was all. He didn’t know what she wanted from him, but he smiled widely anyway. A noble was always polite, even in unfamiliar situations.

“Hello, Ferdinand,” she said. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” he agreed. “It is obvious that a lot of care went into the preparations for tonight’s event. Are you having a good evening?”

“Definitely!” she said. She smiled at him, and it was a very lovely smile. So lovely that it almost seemed wasted on him. “But I have to admit it’s pretty hot in here with all these people.”

Ferdinand chuckled. “Yes, I do not believe so many bodies were meant to occupy so small a space.”

“Makes me want to get some fresh air!” The girl took another sideways step toward him, and though the action didn’t make him uncomfortable, the hair on the back of his neck stood up again, same as it did when he was dancing. Ferdinand looked over his shoulder; Hubert and Edelgard stood nearby, but they were not looking at him, only speaking quietly to one another. Ferdinand turned around again. “Maybe you might want to come with me? I know this is silly, but have you ever heard the story of the Goddess Tower?”

“Of course I know it!” Ferdinand said automatically, always eager to show off his knowledge. Then, it occurred to him what she was asking — _why_ she was asking. His neck prickled again, so much so that he had to rub at it. “Oh! Um. I see. That is a very lovely offer from a very lovely young lady, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Well, I guess I’m not too surprised that the heir from the house of Aegir is already courting someone.” 

“Ah, I’m not—”

The girl smiled brightly at him, cutting him off. “Don’t worry about it. Whoever it is, I hope they know how lucky they are!” She bounced off to a crowd of girls and didn’t seem particularly heartbroken by Ferdinand’s rejection, but still, a pit had formed in the middle of Ferdinand’s stomach.

“You let her down very gently,” someone said, a deep voice suddenly near his ear. “But one can’t help wonder why.”

The prickles that had risen at the back of Ferdinand’s neck zipped down the entire length of his spine at having that voice so near. “I wish you would not suddenly appear like that, Hubert,” he said.

Hubert laughed, a low chuckle, dark and amused. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

Ferdinand spun around to face Hubert head-on, a miscalculation on his part. Of course Hubert must have been close to speak directly into his ear, but Ferdinand facing them brought them chest-to-chest. In the months they’d been at the monastery, Ferdinand knew he’d grown a bit, but Hubert was still quite a bit taller than him; this close, he _loomed_ , but instead of triggering Ferdinand’s instincts for self-preservation, it only reminded him of the last time they had been this close: when they were practicing for the White Heron Cup.

And here they were again, just as close.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Hubert said. He did not step back, so neither did Ferdinand. “Why wouldn’t you wish to accompany an eager young lady? Is she not your type, Ferdinand?”

“I don’t even know her,” Ferdinand said.

“Ah, so anyone you know already would do,” Hubert said. “Rather low standards for a noble, don’t you think?”

Ferdinand pursed his lips and tried to tamp down his rising anger. It would not do to make a scene in front of all of these people. “My standards are none of your business.”

“You know me,” Hubert continued on, as if he hadn’t heard Ferdinand at all. “And Linhardt and Bernadetta and Lady Edelgard and the professor! Would anyone do for a midnight tryst at the Tower? What interesting intelligence I’ve gathered on you. I wonder if you’d—”

“I want my favor!” Ferdinand blurted. He puffed up his chest, heedless of the fact that only brought him in closer contact with Hubert. “You still owe me one.”

Hubert, at least, had the good sense to look surprised. “You’re right,” he said, and tilted his head to one side. The action made his hair obscure his face even more than usual, and Ferdinand followed the movement when Hubert reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Well? What will it be?”

“A dance,” Ferdinand said. “A _quiet_ dance,” he added after a moment. “So everyone will know how the winner of the White Heron Cup learned those fancy steps.”

“Are— are you sure?” Hubert stumbling over his words was so unusual for him that it gave Ferdinand pause. “It is your favor to do with as you wish, and _I_ certainly don’t care what anyone at this blasted ball thinks of me, but it seems unusual for you.”

“What is there to care about?” Ferdinand asked, genuinely confounded.

Hubert blinked at him. “My reputation, for one, and the fact that we are both men. It’s a bad look for the _eldest son and legitimate heir_ ,” he said. His impression of Ferdinand was unfortunately passable.

“We have danced together before,” Ferdinand reminded him. “More than once.”

“Yes, of course,” Hubert said, rolling his eyes. “But that was under the cover of night and something hardly anyone else knew about. Dancing with the Imperial Princess’s scary vassal on the monastery's anniversary in front of the entire academy is something else entirely. Surely that’s not something you want getting back to Duke Aegir.”

Ferdinand’s eyes automatically narrowed at the mention of his father. “Do you think me so closed-minded? That two men dancing is something that might embarrass me? Have I ever given any indication of that?” 

Hubert paused. “Well, no.”

“For the goddess’s sake, Hubert, it is only one dance,” Ferdinand said. “It’s not like I’m proposing.” He flustered himself with his own words the second they were out of his mouth. But ignoring the blush from his cheeks, Ferdinand walked out to the center of the dance floor, extending out his hand. “My favor, Hubert.” 

After the barest moment’s hesitation, Hubert followed. “Are you leading, then?”

Ferdinand shrugged. “If you would like.”

“It’s your favor,” said Hubert, but he looked up and exhaled. “It’s fine. Might as well show off what my instructor can do.”

“What _we_ can do,” Ferdinand said before he could think to regret it. They settled into the correct positions, just as the string quartet struck up a new song. This one was soft and sweet, a song for lovers. Much of the dance floor cleared out as the romantic tune swelled, and if Ferdinand had realized this was to be their song, he might have rethought his plan. But now it was far too late for that, and Ferdinand was not someone who backed down easily— especially where Hubert was concerned.

“Are you all right?” Hubert asked.

Ferdinand blinked up at him. There had been no annoyance lacing his words, only concern. 

“We’re not moving,” Hubert pointed out, looking all around.

“Ah,” Ferdinand said. So they weren’t. “I was simply getting my bearings, trying to figure out how to make you look as good as possible. Wouldn’t want you to appear dull when compared to my brilliance, after all.”

Hubert pressed his lips together, as though he were trying not to laugh. “How conscientious of you.”

“Of course!” Ferdinand said, far too loudly and then laughed far too quickly. He had no idea why he was so nervous; they had, as he’d said, danced together many times. “Anyway, I think I have it now.” He counted in his head and then off they went, circling the dance floor.

Not all of the couples still left on the floor took advantage of the floor’s full space, choosing to cluster at the center and not do much other than hold each other and sway. Ferdinand scoffed at them, but still, he could not help but wonder what that might be like, staring at someone with a besotted look in his eyes, uncaring of anything around them. But maybe that was too romantic a notion for the Prime Minister’s son.

“Ferdinand, you look like you want to barrel through the center of the crowd.” Hubert dipped his head, speaking into Ferdinand’s ear. “You can, if you’d like. It would be funny.”

“No, Hubert.” Now it was Ferdinand’s turn to suppress his laughter. “I was just thinking that their lack of skill is appalling.”

“Oh?” said Hubert. “Then I suppose it’s up to us to show them how it’s done.”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “Yes, you’re right! Okay, Hubert, hold onto your hat.”

At that, Ferdinand led Hubert through sweeping steps, changing up the footwork more than he had during their lessons. It had been nice to shake the rust from his childhood lessons, even though he still suffered from excess exuberance — or what Dorothea once called _the moves of a hyperactive flea_. He didn’t know what it was about her and bugs, but he tried to temper that enthusiasm then, turning too much energy into focused power. Dancing was a little bit like a battle; there was a reason they had Dancers on the battlefield, after all. Experience in battle had allowed him to wield his weapon more succinctly, with greater precision. Only instead of a lance, he was wielding Hubert.

Oh, this was all a terribly mixed metaphor. His head felt rather jumbled. In fact, he realized, it had been for quite some time.

The song was winding to an end; soon Hubert would be free of his favor and Ferdinand would be free of Hubert, except through their regular interactions. They would probably be fighting again by morning. Ferdinand led Hubert through a natural spin turn and slowed to a stop. The proper, noble ending to the dance would be Ferdinand stepping back and bowing, before allowing Hubert to do the same. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” Ferdinand declared.

“Wait, what?” Hubert said, but then a startled look passed over his face as Ferdinand led him into a dip.

It was rather exhilarating, being able to support all of Hubert through pure strength alone. Ferdinand couldn’t help smiling down at Hubert, whose face was nothing but surprise. But he did not look angry and his gaze was firmly locked with Ferdinand’s.

 _Good,_ some dark part of Ferdinand thought. _Keep looking at me._

As the rest of him caught up to that, Ferdinand startled and pulled Hubert upright again, as gracefully as his racing heart would allow. He swallowed when he found Hubert still staring at him, as if stuck on a puzzle he found more complicated than he’d originally anticipated.

“Thank you for the dance,” Ferdinand said. “And my favor.”

“I should be thanking you,” Hubert said.

“Oh?” Ferdinand tilted his head. “Why?”

“For squandering away my debt to you on something as frivolous as a dance.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “Just let me enjoy something,” he said, letting Hubert go slowly, as if his hands were reluctant to do so. He stepped back and bowed, inclining his head to smile up. “At least for tonight.” He straightened up again.

Hubert bowed back. “For tonight,” he agreed. They turned from each other and parted.

Now that Ferdinand wasn’t so preoccupied, he could feel the eyes of the other guests as he walked off. Let them stare. He didn’t give a damn. He was Ferdinand von Aegir, after all.

And if Ferdinand von Aegir wanted to send one more glance over his shoulder, just for the thrill of finding Hubert doing the same, well, let them stare at that, too.

*

The high of the ball soon wore off for all of them. They fought their most savage battle ever not even a week later; students turned into beasts, the professor lost her beloved father in the aftermath, and Edelgard and Hubert grew more secretive than ever after Monica’s betrayal. Things between Ferdinand and Hubert mostly returned to normal, though Hubert stopped challenging Ferdinand so much, instead settling on long, thoughtful looks that rather unnerved him. For his part, Ferdinand had less reason to bite back his words around Hubert because there was nothing to chew on. Something about that left a hole in his heart, but he couldn’t say why.

Everything felt sad and huge and inevitable. If Ferdinand still had a spring in his step, it was merely because he forced it to be there.

Caspar ran through the halls, the steel from his armored boots clanging as he went. “Ferdinand!” he cried as he ran by. “Come on!”

“What is it?” Ferdinand said, automatically breaking into a run alongside him. 

“Monster sighting! It’s attacking just outside the monastery,” Caspar said, and increased his pace. “Get your gear and meet the professor outside! She needs all of us, stat.”

Ferdinand gulped and nodded, changing direction toward the stables. Moments later, the stablehands were preparing his horse and his valets were assisting him with his armor. There had always been demonic beasts around Garreg Mach, but the ones as of late were bigger, more aggressive, as if preparing for something huge. Ferdinand couldn’t imagine what that was, but it wasn’t his job to know. It was his job to follow the professor’s orders, knowing that her guidance had never steered him or the other Black Eagles wrong.

“No, you’re wrong. That’s a terrible idea,” Hubert was telling the professor as Ferdinand rode up. “No, thank you.”

Byleth tilted her head to one side. “What was the point of you becoming a Dancer, if not to take advantage of it in battle? It’s our best shot at winning quickly and cleanly.”

Edelgard joined them, nodding up at Ferdinand in greeting as she went. “I agree with the professor, Hubert. You’ve never doubted our teacher’s plans before,” she said. “What’s the problem now?”

“Lady Edelgard, I—” Hubert trailed off.

A complicated expression played out across Hubert’s face, and he lifted his head, probably because that way his height made it harder for Edelgard and the professor to see. But that just had him facing Ferdinand, high up on his mount. Their eyes met and Ferdinand thought he could read some of what Hubert was feeling — confusion over disagreeing with Edelgard, exasperation, perhaps a little anxiety. 

Ferdinand bit his lip. “Whatever it is, professor,” he said tentatively, “is it really our best plan?”

“Oh, good, Ferdinand,” Byleth said, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “You’re just in time.” It was something of a relief to see her smile after Captain Jeralt’s passing, but still, there was something mischievous about her words and a feeling of dread washed over him. Ah. Now he recognized the other thing in Hubert’s eyes; he’d been pleading with him. Because his reluctance also involved Ferdinand.

Dorothea rushed up to them, something dark draped over both arms. “I hope I grabbed everything from your classroom, Professor. There are a lot of accessories!”

Byleth tilted her head and sifted through what Dorothea held. “Yep, that looks like everything,” she said. “Do you need any assistance, Hubert?”

Hubert’s lips briefly tightened into a straight line. Then his shoulders sagged and he sighed. “No, I’ll be fine.” He grabbed everything Dorothea held and stalked off… somewhere. Puzzled, Ferdinand watched him as he left, his gangly figure growing smaller and smaller as he retreated; Ferdinand didn’t know what to make of the scene that had just occurred and he was sure his face was just one big question mark.

“Ferdinand. Oh, Ferdinand,” Byleth called, her tone making it clear that wasn’t the first time she’d said it. Ferdinand shook his head and looked down at his teacher. “Are you with me now?”

“Yes, of course!” Ferdinand said, though he was sure his face was now flaming. Dorothea and Edelgard were already quite far away from them, their heads bent toward one another, discussing something. Goodness, how long had he been watching? “Um. What was all that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Byleth smiled. “Remember when we were in the sauna a few weeks ago?”

Was this really the time for a bit of nostalgia? They were readying themselves for battle! But then again, the professor had recently experienced a big loss, and perhaps it was better to be gentle. That was certainly the noblest thing to do. “Of course,” Ferdinand said. Beneath him, his horse shook her head and whinnied, restless; a person’s horse often reflected their own feelings, so he stroked the side of her neck and tried to soothe both of them.

“Well, when I said that I thought you and Hubert worked well together, I meant it,” she said. “You know, a few weeks ago at the ball, I left for a time and when I returned, I saw something very interesting.”

Ferdinand ducked his head. “Our dance.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I thought about it for quite some time afterward, too, about how it reminded me of the give-and-take of battle.”

“Always a mercenary, aren’t you, professor?” asked Ferdinand, even recalling that he had thought much the same. 

Byleth laughed. “Well, you can put the girl in the monastery, but you can’t take away her confirmed kills.” She frowned for a moment, pausing; it was clear she was remembering something of her time with Captain Jeralt, but Ferdinand thought it better not to mention it. “Anyway,” she went on, “Hubert won the Cup — that means he has the requisite skills for a Dancer.”

A Dancer! Goodness, Ferdinand was so caught up in helping Hubert win that he had forgotten that fact entirely. Dancers were such a rare commodity that Ferdinand had never even seen one up close, and now Hubert was one. Ferdinand waited for the expected flush of envy that always accompanied someone getting something he couldn’t have, but nothing came. All he felt was anticipation over seeing Hubert in action. Odd.

“And you are very bold in battle, always charging in bravely—”

“Thank you, professor!”

“— Sometimes even when you shouldn’t.”

Now it was Ferdinand’s turn to frown.

“I thought a Dancer might be of particular use for you and your mount, given your innate risk-taking and their restorative abilities,” Byleth said, taking a step closer to pat Ferdinand’s horse. “So, I wanted to make Hubert your adjutant.”

“Oh,” Ferdinand said, his face falling before he could stop it. “I see. Hubert did not wish to work with me, then.”

Byleth gave him a strange look. “No, he had no problem with that. Edelgard and he both agreed you could be useful to one another.”

Something in Ferdinand’s stomach flipped at that. But that still left a question unanswered. “Then why would he be reluctant?” Ferdinand racked his brain, trying to remember what precisely a Dancer could do. They were proficient with magic, which Hubert certainly was, and the sword, which Hubert could be when training with weapons. It seemed ideal.

“Well.” Byleth gestured, pointing in the direction where Hubert retreated. “See for yourself.”

Ferdinand turned his head.

Hubert approached again with a scowl on his face, a familiar enough expression, but that was just about the only familiar thing about it. There was nothing _particularly_ salacious about the Dancer armor, it was more what it suggested. The outfit stretched from Hubert’s shoulders to his ankle, so he was well covered, and nothing about the color scheme was garish: the material was mostly black with only dark red and purple accents to break up the gloom. 

But there was a flash of leg visible through a slit in the skirt, complete with gladiator sandals that crawled up Hubert’s calf. Coins jangled from a hip wrap, slung low on Hubert’s waist, with more metal work delicately surrounding his chest and throat. Open leather arm guards stretched from wrist to elbow, ending in metal cuffs around his wrists. Best of all, Hubert’s hands were completely bare. 

_Best of all?_ Ferdinand chided himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind. _What does that mean?_

“I look ridiculous,” Hubert complained.

“No!” Ferdinand exclaimed, just as Byleth said, “You look _fine_.”

“No?” Hubert said, looking up.

Ferdinand cleared his throat. “Ah,” he said. He bit his lip and tried to will away his sudden embarrassment. “It’s just as the professor says. You look fine. Um. More than. Dancers are so unusual and well-respected; I can think of no one better to represent them.”

Hubert stared at him unblinkingly for one beat, two, then opened his mouth.

In the distance, a beast roared as if to remind everyone why they were there. Byleth patted Ferdinand’s horse once more.

“All right, boys,” she said, drawing her sword. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Caspar wasn’t exaggerating when he called the beast a monster; the massive thing was at least twice the size of any other demonic beast Ferdinand had ever seen, with a full back of dense scales and massive jaws dripping drool onto the ground. Ferdinand made a face. _Ugh. Lovely._ The thing wasn’t alone, either, having brought several of its smaller but still rather disgusting friends along with it.

The professor’s plan was hit them hard and fast and get out of there as soon as possible, which Ferdinand definitely saw as the best course of action. The little ones seemed to take their direction from the bigger one, attacking whenever they came near, so they concentrated first on taking those out. Ferdinand kept galloping forward, sticking his assigned little-big monster with his lance and then retreating, which was when Hubert would hit it with Banshee, limiting its ability to retaliate against Ferdinand. Sure enough, the great drooly thing would still be shaking off the spell when Ferdinand hit again, and the two of them were able to make short work of it.

Ferdinand laughed when the beast swayed unsteadily on its feet. “You think you’re any match for the great Ferdinand von Aegir?” he asked cockily, his body thrumming with the electricity of the fight. He and his horse were covered with more viscera than he usually preferred, but that didn’t stop him from grinning dangerously. “Take that!” he shouted, charging forward with his lance drawn once more, plunging it into the beast’s side and sending up a spray of blood and more.

Hubert held up his hands to prevent the beast from moving again, but then it opened its huge jaw and Ferdinand saw a ball of magical energy form atop its tongue.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “No!” His body moved before his mind had a chance to catch up. “Hubert!” Ferdinand cried as he sprung into action, putting himself between Hubert and the beast. The energy ball shot from the beast’s mouth and hit him with its full brunt, knocking Ferdinand off his horse. His mare, frightened, reared up and galloped away from them, distracting the beast for the moment, as Ferdinand struggled to get up. Instead, he collapsed and coughed, his eyes wanting to squeeze shut as an escape from the pain. He forced them to remain open.

Though Hubert’s face was normally pale, that was nothing compared to how it looked now. “You are so stupid,” he said, looming over Ferdinand again. “Stupid and brave and it’s going to get you killed.”

“I am not dead yet.” Ferdinand struggled to sit up and failed, yet again. 

“You’d better not be,” Hubert said. “At least give me the pleasure of doing that myself.”

Ferdinand tried to laugh and only managed to cough. A beautiful set of complicated expressions once again played across Hubert’s features; who knew he was so capable of emotion? Then, instead of helping Ferdinand up, he sighed deeply, like he’d just lost an argument with himself. 

Hubert began his dance then, and Ferdinand could tell by his face that he thought all the shimmying and hand-waving was ridiculous, but not to Ferdinand. It was truly lovely; it reminded him of the first time he handled a sword, after seeing Manuela’s enchanting sword-dance at the Mittelfrank. Like this, _Hubert_ was enchanting.

At the end of the dance, magic shot from Hubert’s fingertips and hit Ferdinand square in the chest, just as the beast’s magic had, but instead of having the wind knocked out of him and feeling like every rib was bruised from the inside out, Ferdinand felt rejuvenated and whole. Before, he only associated Hubert with the darker magic he loved and excelled in — terrifying and powerful with his Miasma and Mire. Because of that, Ferdinand expected the spell to be efficient and cold, but while it did its work capably, there was nothing cold about it. Ferdinand felt like he was surrounded by a warm blanket, climbing into a hot bath after a long day, or breathing in the steam of a fresh cup of tea. He’d never felt magic like Hubert’s dance before, and the aftermath restored him like nothing he could recall.

Hubert finally offered a hand up. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Ferdinand said, taking it. “Whatever damage I incurred, you’ve reversed it. Amazing, really.”

“You are far too reckless,” Hubert said as he pulled Ferdinand to his feet again. When he let go of Ferdinand’s hand, it was strange but Ferdinand felt the loss acutely. “You did not need to sacrifice yourself for my sake.”

Ferdinand waved him off. “It’s nothing you would not have done for me,” 

Hubert chuckled darkly. “You sound so sure of that.”

“Of course! That’s because I am,” Ferdinand said. He jogged after his mare and mounted it again so he could charge back into the fray, rejuvenated and renewed. Ferdinand pulled back on the reins and bit his bottom lip. “Thank you, Hubert.” 

They made short work of the little one after that, then joined together with the rest of their house to topple the giant monster threatening the monastery. They worked together in tandem in a way that felt so natural to Ferdinand. His lance took care of all the bloody dirty work of war, while Hubert reinvigorated him in between casting spells of his own, each deployed with beautifully deadly precision. 

When the squalling monster finally toppled, Ferdinand felt a mixture of relief, pride, and bone-deep exhaustion. He dismounted his war horse and wiped the sweat from his brow as best he could with his sleeve, but he knew he’d be spending most of his evening washing up before collapsing into bed.

Byleth patted him vaguely as she made the rounds to each of her students. He held the reins of his horse in one hand, but with the other he briefly gripped her shoulder. Ferdinand hoped that gesture conveyed what he couldn’t with words.

“You did well,” she assured him. “You both did. Just as I knew you would.”

“We did,” Ferdinand agreed. “If you—” He hesitated, then plowed ahead. “If you wanted Hubert and me to work together again, I would not protest.”

“Are you volunteering me to be stuck with you again?” asked Hubert. “Most likely in this ridiculous costume, too.”

One corner of Byleth’s lips twitched. “You also did well, Hubert. You’re a natural Dancer.”

Hubert glowered. “I am _not_ ,” he said. Then he sighed. “But I suppose it was not the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Byleth outright laughed then, catching both Hubert and Ferdinand by surprise. They exchanged bewildered looks; what Ferdinand was feeling was so perfectly mirrored on Hubert’s face that he could not help but smile.

“Thank you again, both of you,” she said, before moving onto Caspar and Linhardt, which was probably good because Caspar was yelling and climbing onto Linhardt’s back.

“Well,” Ferdinand told Hubert, “I suppose I’ll be heading back now. I plan on sleeping like Linhardt and need to get a head start.”

Hubert caught him by the wrist just as he turned to go. Ferdinand looked over his shoulder and didn’t quite understand why his heart started to pound when Hubert caught his eyes. It had to be the aftermath of the battle playing tricks on him. 

“Did you need something else, Hubert?” asked Ferdinand, turning back.

“Hmm. A question, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

Hubert dropped Ferdinand’s wrist but the warmth from his fingers remained. The full realization of Hubert’s bare hands in his Dancer costume hit Ferdinand like a slap in the face, and his face went hot. Even though they were not touching anywhere, he could still feel Hubert’s eyes on him and that knowledge was less unpleasant than he might have guessed. 

Distantly, he could hear Caspar yelling to Linhardt to help him clean up and Linhardt whining after him; Ferdinand realized he’d been silent for too long and Hubert was still watching him, waiting. 

“G— go ahead,” Ferdinand said shakily. He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“You say you wish to be a… worthy advisor to Lady Edelgard when she ascends the throne,” Hubert said. Of course it was about Edelgard. Ferdinand knew he shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed, but somehow he felt both. Hubert’s thoughtful stare grew sharper. “Do you mean that or are you merely parroting what your father has taught you?”

“I would never do anything just because my father wished it,” Ferdinand said, carefully trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. Based on the way Hubert’s eyes widened, he didn’t think he’d succeeded. “Edelgard will be a strong and capable leader.” Ferdinand smiled broadly. “With me at her side, that is.”

“You are useless,” Hubert said without his usual bite, so Ferdinand knew he had just passed whatever test he’d been given. Ferdinand wished that praise meant nothing to him, but tired as he was from the battle, he could not pretend as if that were the case. Hubert continued to study him for a moment, then straightened his spine and looked away. “Ferdinand, today you fought admirably,” he told the air.

Ferdinand bit back a smile. “And you danced beautifully.”

*

_Six years later_

Ferdinand bowed low at the waist, grinning when he straightened up because even if Hubert rolled his eyes at that gesture, his cheeks still looked suspiciously pink. It was nice that he still had that effect on him, after all this time.

“It is traditional that the newlyweds have the first dance at the wedding feast,” Ferdinand said.

“I _know_ ,” Hubert said. “For you have told me that every day for the past three months.” But he was already stepping closer, his hands extended as Ferdinand stepped into his space. Ferdinand took Hubert’s hand, his other resting lightly on his shoulder.

But before the musicians could even play a note, Edelgard started tapping on the side of her wine goblet with a fork, encouraging Byleth and the rest of their friends to join in. The din grew louder and louder until the Emperor called, “Kiss, kiss!”

“You heard her,” Ferdinand said, a wide smile stretched across his face, even though that would make this task more difficult.

“I would not want to disappoint Her Majesty,” Hubert said, with a similar smile on his own features. It felt foreign, almost like a dream, to remember a time where that smile would have freaked Ferdinand out. Now it filled him with warmth and love, the same way Hubert’s Dancer magic always had done on the battlefield. It carried him through his time at the Academy, through the decision to follow Edelgard into her war; it carried him through late nights and the darkest hours, and when they finally admitted their feelings to one another, it was another kind of magic entirely.

Ferdinand and Hubert leaned in, pressing their mouths together, a chaste little public show to mollify their friends. It was nothing like the heated kisses they shared most nights, or the secret ones they snuck in between meetings, but Ferdinand still poured all the love and affection he could into it. He did that with all things that had to do with Hubert now, and starting their new life together, he would not have it any other way.

“Well, my dear,” Ferdinand said breathlessly once they parted, pressing his forehead to Hubert’s. “It is always a joy to revisit the place where we began. Do you want to lead or shall I?”

Hubert tilted his chin up and kissed Ferdinand’s forehead. “Which would you prefer?” he asked.

“You, I think,” Ferdinand said after a moment’s consideration. “I have loved following your dance for a long, long time.”

“As you wish, Husband,” Hubert said, tightening his hold on Ferdinand’s back. They grinned at one another again.

Then the music started, and off they went.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos welcome. if you follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nonnonnegative), you get more ferdibert gems, such as "hubert works in hot topic and ferdinand works in abercrombie" and "i like it when artists draw hubert like nosferatu in a gerard way wig."


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